Ann Lister - Sheet Music - A Rock 'n' Roll Love Story

“No thanks, it’s all yours.”

“Shhhh, what’s that sound?” Annie asked.

Heated electric rhythms vibrated from the theater in quick fluid bursts of brilliance, as Gary brought his guitar to life.

“Sounds like Gary has chosen his career,” Buzz answered, listening to Gary’s quick riffs on his guitar. Relieved, they headed back inside.

Nobody said a word and quietly picked up their instruments and joined Gary in mid song. Half an hour later they were at full rock level when Michael slipped back inside the theater.

“That was a good practice,” Michael commented. “And I’m glad you decided to pursue the opportunity, Gary.”

Gary ignored Michael’s voice and continued to pick-up around the stage area. Annie stopped what she was doing and released a private sigh of relief when she noticed the warmth was once again back in Michael’s face. As if he knew she was looking his way, Michael’s eyes silently locked onto hers. The air stopped short in her throat and she felt unable to move away from his stare.

A slow smile melted the lines in Michael’s face. “Annie, isn’t it?” he asked, as if he was unsure of her name.

“Yes, that’s right,” she softly replied, completely amazed he had gotten it right the first time.

“You have a really strong voice,” he offered. “I mean, you sounded great,” he quickly added, shaking his head.

Perhaps it was her imagination, but Annie swore Michael seemed as nervous as she was. Even in the dim lighting of the theater, it appeared to her that he was blushing slightly, the notion of which made her heart lurch. She smiled at him, and he returned one to her then turned to leave the building.

“I’ll see you guys tomorrow,” he called out over his shoulder and shut the door behind him.

The sun was beginning to set and cool the late afternoon air. Michael shivered and went to his car.

Michael steered his black Porsche back toward Boston. The trip was a blur to him, as his mind wrestled with thoughts of Annie. How unexpectedly she had crashed into his life and turned it upside down, with nothing more than a smile.

He pulled up to the gated entrance of Brian Lofgren’s driveway. He and Brian were the co-founders of Thrust and best friends, but they acted more like brothers. Some said they even looked as if they were related. Brian and Michael disagreed; Brian was far shorter than his stage brother and his facial features sharply chiseled like a bronze sculpture.

It was hard to imagine Brian without Michael and vice versa. For the last twenty-two years, each trusted the other implicitly with the other’s life, and what a life it had been.

Michael knew Brian was a night owl and would still be awake. He reached out his car window and pressed the call button on the intercom box.

A few minutes later the raspy voice of Brian rang back at him through the speaker; “Who’s out there?” Brian asked, a note of concern in his voice.

“Who the hell were you expecting?” Michael grinned.

“I should have known,” Brian laughed. “Come on in!”

Michael waited while the ten foot black iron gates electronically opened then he throttled his car onward up the long, winding drive and stopped by the massive front door.

Feeling edgy, he approached the solid mahogany double doors. Before he had a chance to knock, Brian opened one of the doors, shirtless, unshaven whiskers on his face, and his hair wild and uncombed. It was obvious Brian was not expecting company.

“Hey, Bro, what’s up?” Brian chirped with excitement. “Come in, come in.”

All the guys in Thrust were like brothers but Brian and Michael shared a bond that, at times, even scared them. Sometimes it was a love hate relationship, other times it was pure acceptance and adulation. Their shared years of sobriety had taught them that.

“You out cruising alone tonight?” Brian asked, quickly checking outside before he closed the front door.

“Yeah.”

“You look tense,” Brian remarked.

“You alone?” Michael asked, his eyes darting around the vast layout of the house looking for Brian’s wife and kids. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“No, but I can be. Come on, we’ll go out to the studio.” Brian pointed Michael in the direction of his new state-of-the-art recording studio that was recently built onto his home. “Go ahead, I’ll meet you out there.” A few moments later he appeared carrying two bottles of imported water. He handed one to Michael before sitting down in a director’s chair with his name imprinted on the back.

“Okay, so what’s got you so perplexed, my friend?” Brian asked, leaning back into his chair.

“I just came from a practice with my band.”

“So, how’s it going?”

“They need a lot of work.”

“Don’t they all,” Brian laughed. “I bet it reminds you of us, back in the day!”

“They could use a bass player.”

“So get ‘em one.”

“It’s not that simple.”

“Of course it is. We have full range to do whatever needs to be done with these bands to get them on the right track. If they need a bass player, get ‘em a fucking bass player.”

“I don’t know. The lead singer is going to be a problem. I’ve already had one go-around with him and I’m sure it’s not the last. And the keyboard player is a dope head.”

Brian leaned forward in his chair and rested his arms on his knees. “Been there, done that. You can handle all of this shit. So why are you coming to me?”

“I’m thinking I should change the lead singer. The rhythm guitarist has a better stage presence than the asshole out front now,” Michael said thoughtfully.

“Then put him out front. You’re in the drivers seat, Mike. You don’t need my permission to make these adjustments.”

“The rhythm guitarist is female,” Michael’s voice trailed off.

“Oh, I should have known! This is all about pussy, isn’t it?”

“No, this one is different.”

“They’re all different, month to month for you, Bro. You live your life through your God-damned zipper!”

Michael shook his head in protest. “I’m telling you, this one is different. You’ll know what I’m talking about after you meet her.”

“Mike, I don’t have to meet her to know what she looks like,” he sniffed. “I’m willing to bet she’s blond and thin - but not too thin, with long legs you’d love to use as a scarf in the winter to warm your ugly face, and tits slightly more than a mouthful. Am I right?”

“You forgot to mention her blue eyes,” Michael laughed, realizing the history he shared with Brian. They knew each other too well.

Brian returned the smile. “I know you better than you know yourself.”

“You really think so?” Michael asked with sarcasm.

“Yeah, I do.”

Brian leaned back against the canvas chair and clasped his hands behind his head. “Look, if we didn't have this contest hanging over our heads, I'd say go for it. Take her back to your place and screw her out of your system. But we do have the contest and for that reason I can't give you my blessing. So I am strongly suggesting you keep your hands out of her pants. One night with her wouldn't justify the damage you'd do to her band or to the future of the contest. Besides how would it look if they found out you were sleeping with the singer from the band you're supposed to be sponsoring?”

Michael lowered his head and studied his hands. “First of all, I wasn't looking for your blessing. And secondly, it would take a lot more than one night to fuck her out of my system.”

Brian raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes. I’m quite certain of it.”

Brian watched his friend drift toward the door. “Sounds to me like you’re getting in over your head, buddy, and into a place you probably shouldn’t visit.”